


Goodbye

by why_the_nightingale_sings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Unhappy Ending, Whore!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_the_nightingale_sings/pseuds/why_the_nightingale_sings
Summary: Petyr is leaving King’s Landing and leaving you behind.  You knew he never would have loved you but you had hoped for something more than this.





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Petyr Baelish. Gotta love him.

The day was hot in King's Landing. The night was only slightly less so. A breeze blew through the latticed window of your chambers. You might have enjoyed it, were it not for the grief in your heart. 

"You are leaving."

It was not a question. 

"Yes, sweetling."

Petyr stood, outlined in the moonlight, looking out your window. Not for the first time, your eyes trailed over his elegant figure, the lean lines of the tailored doublet and his impeccable posture. 

"How long will you be gone?"

"I do not know."

"Where will you go?"

"The Vale."

"So far?"

He turned to look at you. His grey-green eyes gleamed in the half-light and he turned to the side table to pour two goblets of Arbor gold. He offered one to you. You shifted from where you reclined on the cushioned pleasure-bed to take the glass cup filled with gold wine. He sat himself on the feather mattress - a rare luxury. His ringed fingers idly traced the lightning-shaped stretch marks along your hips and his thin lips curved into a smile. 

"Yes, dear one. I am going very far away."

You brushed your hair out of your face. You knew it was your greatest beauty, the russet hair that was so close to the Tully hair he wanted. The red waves that fell over your breasts like the tales of merfolk off the coast of Pyke. 

"And you will take her with you?" Your eyes sought his, sought the truth, "You will take her away from this place?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes taking on the far away look you knew too well. The look that meant he was thinking of Catelyn, the woman he had loved, and Sansa, the child who had taken her place in his heart. "Yes, I will take Sansa away from here."

You dropped your eyes, toying with the goblet in your hands, enjoying for what may be the last time the feel of his hands on your skin. He did not like to be touched, not when he did not want it, you knew better than to try to take his hand but oh you wanted to. You wanted to kiss his hands, to plead to be taken too, to beg him not to leave you. But you knew he would not like that. And his kindness to you meant that you wanted to do whatever you could to make him happy. As happy has he could be. 

His head tilted and his fingers gripped your chin, lifting your face so he could look at you, "Does that hurt you so?"

"Yes, my lord." You could not lie to him. You never could. 

"Petyr," he reminded you, "Here in this room, you must call me Petyr."

"Petyr," you whispered, watching the way his face softened into what might have been a smile. "Yes, Petyr, it hurts."

"I am sorry to hurt you, my little mockingbird," he said, his hand moving from your chin to caress your cheek, "But you know I must do this."

You nodded. You knew, oh yes you knew. It had been an accident, an accident he hated, when he had whispered to you too much, when he had spilled some of his secrets. You knew it was because your red hair reminded him of the woman he had lost and the girl he stood to gain, you knew it was because when he looked at you he saw someone else, but you liked to think it was because you were special, because you had pleased him in a special way, because he loved you. It was foolishness, of course. A man like him loving a woman like you? It could never be. So you were not sad, not really. You were happy that he was getting what he wanted. That was all you ever wished for him, to get what he wanted. But you knew a greedy man like him would not stop. He wanted everything. And this child could not give him what he craved. Not like you could. You would give him everything. Everything you had, everything you owned, everything you were, it was Petyr's. You would take his hand and walk through the Seven Hells with him. And he knew it. Which was what hurt most of all. 

"I know."

You sipped your wine, knowing that you would have plenty of time to cry once he had gone. 

"But I do not intend to leave you destitute without me," he said, his minty voice as warm as he could make it. In spite of yourself, you glanced up. "I will leave you this establishment that you may continue to pursue my investments while I am away. I expect you to make me proud. Will you make me proud?"

You nodded, managing a smile. He always knew when you were faking your pleasure with your patrons but now he accepted your fake smile with one of his own, a cool false smile that did not reach his grey-green eyes. 

"Then I am glad to know that my affairs will be well-taken care of," he said breezily, planting a kiss on your cheek and rising. "But I must make ready for my departure. I am sorry to leave you so soon. You know how much I value our time together."

A lie, but a silver one. You knew better than to draw attention to it. Instead you sipped your wine once more before setting it aside and rising. His hands found your shoulders, resting there a moment as he leaned in. You loved his kisses, they were cool and calm, like the frosts of winter. Not like the heavy, hot kisses of the other men in your bed. No, Petyr's kisses were minty and controlled, never more than he wanted to give and never more than you could take. Perfect. 

He touched your hair once before smiling and turning away, taking up his cloak as he made to leave your chamber. 

"Petyr!"

You don't know what brought the wild note to your voice but it gave him pause, turning to glance at you from the side of his eye. 

"I will never see you again."

You don't know what made you so certain, but you were. You knew that this was the last you would see of him and you trembled at the thought. Perhaps it was the way you quivered, perhaps it was the unshed tears in your eyes, perhaps it was your almost-Tully hair, but Petry Baelish turned back. He crossed to you and took your hands in his, pressing something into your palm. 

"Will you ever forget me?" He asked a question he already knew an answer to. 

"No," you whispered, "Never."

His lips on your once again, the swiftest of kisses. 

"Goodbye."

He vanished from the room with a sweep of his cloak and leaving the lingering scent of mint and musk. You sat on the edge of your bed, letting the tears fall at last as he walked out of your life. Your hand clenched, the silver mockingbird pin pressing sharply into your skin. 

"Goodbye."


End file.
